


petit frère

by mishkinat



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Child Abuse, Childhood, Combeferre & Enjolras Platonic Life Partners, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 09:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3244745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mishkinat/pseuds/mishkinat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When people sit at the back of the Musain on a night when Les Amis are holding a meeting, they are often in for a treat. They are drawn in by the tall, fiery figure in the corner. A young man, wild golden hair and the most blazing blue eyes. His mouth is always moving, but they are fixated on his energy, his words and his passion. The young man is so spectacular that they find themselves moved, his words igniting their own passionate fire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	petit frère

**Author's Note:**

> this is part of my chaptered fic 'l'amitie' but i thought it could also be read separately so here you go
> 
> also, im from scotland and i don't really have a place setting for this story. i'd like it to be france but i really do not know enough culturally about it so i'd rather stick to what i know.

When people sit at the back of the Musain on a night when Les Amis are holding a meeting, they are often in for a treat. They are drawn in by the tall, fiery figure in the corner. A young man, wild golden hair and the most blazing blue eyes. His mouth is always moving, but they are fixated on his energy, his words and his passion. The young man is so spectacular that they find themselves moved, his words igniting their own passionate fire. Most often, 'the young man in the Musain' is the talk at the dinne table when those people get home. These people are so fixated on, and so in awe of this man and his eccentric group of friends, but mainly their eyes are never broken from the vibrant man. If they were to look at the man who sat closest to Enjolras, and if they were to stare into his softer, calmer green eyes they would have seen nothing but pride. It was a strong pride that resonated from this man, a protective air about him too. If one were to notice these two men talking together they would have instantly picked up on a brotherly bond. They would have thought they are in fact, true brothers. But one was tall, golden haired, energetic and undeniably beautiful. The other was smaller, calmer, more relaxed, his floppy blond-brown hair was more straight and somewhat neatly cut. Thick glasses sat on his nose and every so often he would drag his finger up to sit them right again. Combeferre. There is a reason he can talk with such raging passion and there is a reason that Enjolras, the mighty red leader was able to open up to humble Combeferre more than anyone else. 

 

\----------

"Enjolras!" A sweet voice called. A young Enjolras, seven years old. His eyes full of curiosity and his brows furrowed even then. A brand new blue blazer was smartly pulled on him, shorts and newly polished shoes were the outfit of the day.

"Mum! Mum! Mum!" Enjolras grinned, bounding over to his mother and wrapping his tiny arms around her.

"Here, new school, new tie." She gently tied the red tie under his collar and kissed him on the cheek.  "Are you excited?"

"Yes!" The boy hopped, "The last one was so boring. And this is forever ever?" 

His mum laughed. Enjolras smiled, he liked making her laugh. He noticed it didn't happen as much as he liked. "Until high school, but that's years away for you, young man." She pulled him in for another hug. "You'll make lots of new friends here. Come on, get your bag. Your father is waiting, he's dropping you off on your first day because he has time."

Enjolras' smile dropped. 

"You'll be fine. I'll pick you up, three pm on the dot!" A final kiss on the forehead and Enjolras was out the door.

 

"Son. You need to make an impression on your teachers. A good one. Don't speak unless you are spoken to. Pay attention at all times. Focus on maths and business. You'll need them when we work together. I can't have you falling behind now as it will impact my business when you are older. Understand?" Enjolras had already braced himself for his father's speech at the start of every term.

"But dad-"

"No buts." His voice was rougher. Enjolras didn't like it.

"I don't want to be in your stupid company." Enjolras whined. It was met with a sharp slap on the wrist that stung. Enjolras' tiny blue eyes moved up to face his father's. This was the first time Enjolras made his iconic angry stare. 

 

The boy who sat beside him in class was a very nice boy, Enjolras thought. His glasses made him look clever. 

"I'm Enjolras." He stuck his hand out. 

The boy looked up from his work, grinned, and shook it. "Combeferre."

"Combeferre? I like that. We are going to be _best friends_."

Combeferre smiled. "I'd like that. What are you doing your poster on?" They had been assigned to make posters of their dream job. Enjolras peered over at Combeferre's and saw that he wanted to be a doctor when he was grown up. 

"I'm going to be - well - want to be either a big politician who can change everything bag or a police man so they can help people. So I'm making a poster on one who does both. But I can't do either. It's just not fair is it, Combeferre?"

"Why can't you?"

"My father wants me to take over his business. I can't think of anything worse. He hates when I talk about not wanting to do it, see?" He pointed to his wrist where small red marks remained from earlier that morning. Combeferre frowned.

 

"How was your first day?" Enjolras' mother scooped him up at the gates.

"I made a best friend!"

"A best friend?" Enjolras' mother laughed.

"Forever!" Enjolras grinned. "His name is Combeferre."

 

\-------

Over the next couple of months, Enjolras noticed his father become more mean. His voice got boomier when he did something wrong and Enjolras hated when people shouted. He also began to grow scared of his father because sometimes he would hit him when he was naughty. However, the more he thought about it, Enjolras seemed to be always naughty even if he hadn't done anything wrong. A lot of afternoons were spent hiding in locked rooms or in small spaces because he really did not like when his father hit him and he really hated the marks they left on his skin. But the thing that made him more scared was that his mother was a lot more sad recently and he had began to think it was his fault.

One weekend in August, Enjolras and his father went to a restaurant where lots of people were asking his dad important questions with big words that he did not understand. When they asked him if he was proud of his dad's work he joked and said, "I don't really know what he does but I think it's incredibly boring when he talks about it. And I definitely do not want to do it when I grow up."

He did not know why he said it. He knew that it would make his father's voice loud. He knew it would mean another painful bruise and another missed meal but something in him wanted to tell other people that he really, really did not want to work in his father's business.

 

When they got home it was not a hand that met his face but a fist. It stung a lot more. Blood ran from his nose and tears streamed down his eyes. Enjolras ran to his mother who was crying a lot more than Enjolras was. He felt guilty and began to cry even more.

"Is it my fault?" He sobbed

Enjolras' mother hugged him tight and gave him a tissue for his nose. She couldn't say any words but Enjolras thought that meant she still loved him.

\--------

 

"Enjolras it's my birthday on Saturday!"

"What? How are you older than me, that's not fair."

"I'm going to be ten years old!" Combeferre proudly said.

"What?"

"How old are you?"

"Eight!" Enjolras was outraged. 

"You're like my little brother then." Combeferre laughed, hugging him. "Can you come?"

"No, sorry. My father will not let me leave the house at all unless it's for school."

"You got grounded! On _my_ birthday week!"

"Grounded? I think I've  _always_ been grounded." 

"Come anyway. I'll sneak you out your window. It'll be too late before your father finds out!" Combeferre giggled.

"What! 'Ferre! That is the most utterly ridiculous thing I have ever heard." Enjolras thought for a moment. "Let's do it!"

 

 

When his father found out, he was not happy. Enjolras was terrified. He had never seen his father like this, he was so angry that he wasn't shouting. The silence was worse. His father paced the floor whispering things about how could he allow such a disobedient son. How could he have been so soft on him?

Enjolras was confused, because if he was being honest with himself, he thought his father was quite tough on him. 

"Take off your shirt."

Enjolras was confused. His father lunged forward and tore it. The next minute was a rush. He had gone from confused to very sore in what felt like seconds. Something had hit his back multiple times and made a horrible sound when it crashed against his skin. He came to realise it was his father's belt. He began to cry.

 

\-------

Through high school, Enjolras and Combeferre remained close friends. Combeferre had always had his suspicions about Enjolras' father but whenever he brought up the subject, Enjolras turned to talk about the news. 

One day, shortly after Enjolras had turned sixteen, he ran away. In pain. Enjolras threw rocks at Combeferre's bedroom window in the freeing rain until Combeferre hurried outside.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

Enjolras had been crying a lot.

"It's him isn't it? I was right? Shit."

Enjolras pulled off his scarf to show an ugly bruise on his throat. His back also stung. "H-he got mum. I came in from school and he was just hitting her and I-" Enjolras paused his voice shaking. Thump thump thump. He thought his heart would explode. 

"I screamed at him. I hit him. I don't even care, it's been too long 'Ferre."

Combeferre felt awful. He hugged Enjolras and held him close.

 

\---------

All through his life, Enjolras had dealt with his father. His vicious outbursts. The last time he had seen him had been with 'Ferre in his second year of university. That had been a disaster. Enjolras had tried so very hard to forget the worst moments and had succeeded to some extent. When he woke from nightmares, or when he received texts from his father he generally thought, _I am so lucky to have Combeferre.  
_

 

 


End file.
